


Just Vergil laying some eggs

by orphan_account



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bottom Vergil (Devil May Cry), Egg Laying, Intersex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scalie, Sin Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), mommy Vergil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Exactly as title says. Someone help him out soon or he’s going to fill a whole closet with eggs!!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Just Vergil laying some eggs

Vergil despises his heats.

The scales on his armored skin lifts and falls, in sync with his labored breathing. He feels like a snake trying to shed its skin, except there is no escaping the torturous heat enveloping his body. There is a molten core in his lower belly, pulsing heat flowing through his body like magma; heated steam escapes through the cracks of his plates, obscuring his vision and making everything look hazy and unfocused. He writhes like a worm on the floor, holding and pressing on his stomach hoping that would be enough to suppress the vicious desire commanding his body to crack and melt, so that any predator can have a taste of the soft flesh inside.

He lets out a guttural groan as he feels another wave of throbbing deep inside him, the protective plates between his legs cracking open a little more, heated fluids rolling down his scales thighs, sizzling when it touches the wooden floor. He feels like a clam, with its hardened shells being coaxed open inch by inch, exposing his soft, fleshy, vulnerable insides. He curls his long tail around himself, watching with unfocused gaze as the scales on his tail lifts and falls, scraping the floor and leaving shallow marks. He digs his claws into the floorboards, a familiar sensation of being filled from the inside clouding his already crumbling mind, a desperate growl escaping between his fangs. His body is ovulating, filling his womb with unfertilized eggs, preparing for a potential mate to claim them and fill him with a belly full of offsprings. He trembles like a helpless animal on the ground, gathering his leathery wings and covering himself as much as he can, hoping to hide his surly pathetic self from the world. He hates how helpless and vulnerable he feels, forced to look like this, too weak to even lift his limbs. 

He trembles beneath the protective barrier of his own wings. The slow stretch of his insides is making his head swim with both pain and pleasure, he could  _ feel _ eggs forming slowly inside his body, ready to be fertilized. He has to push them out, he knows if he does nothing, they will just keep filling his womb with more and more eggs, until he’s a writhing mess on the ground, too burdened to move a single muscle. 

Every breath he takes feels like infernal heat. Slowly he flips himself over so he’s lying face up, his wings still clutched tightly against his body, a small comfort in his frenzied state. He could see the protrusion between his legs has cracked open, brightly colored fluids shimmering on his scales. Not nearly enough for a full sized egg to pass through, even an unfertilized one. He takes a deep breath and reaches his clawed hand down, hissing when the pointed tips graze against his sensitive insides. He digs the clawed tips of his wings into the floorboards, the force of it enough to splinter the hard wood; he has to pry himself open, he knows that. He’d tried, once, to let the eggs do it’s own thing, but that did  _ not _ end well for him.

He shuddered at the memory of being filled to the brim, the agony of it forcing him to wail, calling for anyone, anything to sate his heat, so his body would stop filling his little womb with eggs. He desperately tried to push them out, but tried as he might, he just couldn’t get them past his tight cervix. He knows now, without any outside help, he needs to stretch himself open. 

Slowly and carefully, he slipped two clawed fingers into his birthing canal, grinding his fangs together as his own walls cramped down hard, scorching hot and strong. His body is built to accept all kinds of spiked, ridged, or knotted cocks; and thanks to that, his sharp claws couldn’t do any damage. Small blessings, he supposed; although he remains skeptical whether or not being built to be fucked by monster cocks is really a blessing. The thick fleshy walls grips and sucks at his fingers, making him arch off the ground; he feels so, so empty, and desperate for something bigger to fill the pounding void inside his belly. He let out a quiet roar as he spread his fingers inside of himself, stretching the tight walls, ignoring the rippling muscles trying to clamp down. Not enough..he has to stretch his cervix or it would mean nothing.

He takes another deep breath. He’s already trembling from the barely suppressed urge to howl and call for a mate, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep quiet. Luckily, sensing the intruding appendages inside his body, his womb is falling lower to welcome a potential mate, making it easier for him to reach his cervix. He couldn’t help but cry out as he pokes his long sharp claws past the tight ring of his cervix, straining to stretch it so the eggs may pass. He knows the first egg is always the hardest one, after that he should be able to push them out without having to hold his birth canal open with his fingers. 

He hisses when he feels his claws scrape against the soft shell of his eggs, his body tensing and gripping tighter, sensing the potential for virile seeds, and doing all it can to try and milk every last drop of it. He growls and roars, driven wild by his primal instincts, his body’s desire to be bred; he couldn’t stop his own hips from rising to meet imaginary thrusts, digging the heels of his feet into the floor for anchor. He could feel the eggs slipping down towards the opening, and grits his teeth as he spreads himself wider. He puts his free hand on his belly, subtly bulging from the eggs, bright blue energy pulsating with his quickened heartbeat, a swirl of demonic power gathered at his womb. He’s grown impatient, the eggs refusing to come out despite his best effort to stretch his cervix, and so he gives his belly a hard push, curling the talons on his limbs as warm fluids spurted from his womb,, splashing onto the floor. Along with it came an egg, finally slipping past his fingers and plopping onto the floor with a soft and dull  _ thud _ . He takes a deep shuddering breath and stretches himself just a little further, pushing down again on his belly; the rest of the eggs followed suit soon after, one after the other, now that the initial resistance is gone. He feels sore and warm all over, finally able to slip his fingers out, and just slowly rubbing circles on his belly to help push the final few eggs out.

His trigger has dissipated for the most part by now; only his lower belly and birthing canal retained its demonic form, probably for his own protection. He allows himself a few seconds to gather what remains of his strength, and pushes himself up from the floor to assess the size of his clutch. Twelve round and smooth eggs lay between his legs, covered with fluids, a pulsing glow shines through their hardening shells; no wonder he feels so exhausted, with each of them being a little bigger than his fist. He shook his head. His clutch is getting larger and more numerous with every heat, he needs to find a way to keep it under control, or eventually he will be stuck all day laying eggs, which is NOT how he wants to spend his time. 

He sighs and tries to sit up, hissing as the movement pulls at his sore muscles. Staying in his trigger for so long has drained his energy, and his body is taking longer than usual to recover from birthing. He hates feeling so weak, his legs trembling and his womb throbbing, still gaping slightly and dripping onto the floor. He needs to get cleaned up. He  _ should _ get cleaned up. But as his tail, which always remains despite his demonic energy being depleted, snakes around him to warp around his eggs, he reaches out to grab his discarded coat and puts it around him, and falls asleep next to his clutch. He will deal with everything after a few hours of much deserved rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Someone help me the Vergil brain worms has over taken me and I can’t think about anything that’s not Vergil anymore AHHHHHHH


End file.
